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Q
Bond was on edge with Hotchner here and had very nearly told Q not to come. But after his time with Leo, he needed his Monday night with the lad.
He waited in his rooms dressed in slacks and a shirt, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. He'd poured himself a scotch, then poured another as he sat facing the door.
And he waited.
He waited in his rooms dressed in slacks and a shirt, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. He'd poured himself a scotch, then poured another as he sat facing the door.
And he waited.
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Bond couldn't have held off if he'd wanted to, and with his name cried like that, he was utterly lost.
He sank in deep and spilled every drop, his hand never stopping.
"Do it. You've been so good. You can. Go on..."
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That was all Q needed to hear, and he came moments later with a low moan of pleasure.
"Fuck," he gasped, the force of his orgasam so intense he had to fight to catch his breath.
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Bond slowly let him go, first slipping free to move up to kiss him. Then the bonds around Q's wrists unwound and let him free.
Bond savored the taste of him, lazy and affectionate in a way he normally wasn't.
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Moaning against his lips, Q held on tightly.
"I love you," he said without thinking.
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Bond smiled softly, a warmth spreading through him.
That had taken less time than he'd anticipated. He'd assumed Q wouldn't fall so quickly. Bond was pleased to be wrong.
He moved a little so he could look in Q's eyes.
But when he saw the truth of the young man's feelings in his eyes, he found all his machinations and schemes to turn Q into a dutiful servant faltered and crumbled. He found that he'd fallen without intending to.
He was quiet and kissed him softly.
He couldn't bring himself to say it, though. He couldn't decide if it would be worse to lie...or to admit he had opened himself to being hurt again.
Finally, after an eternity of debate, he whispered with barely any voice at all,
"I love you, too."
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Q had half expected to be kicked out of bed for saying it- Hearing James say it in return was a shock.
"...Do you mean that?" he asked.
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It took him almost an equally long time to answer as he studied every line and curve of his face.
"I love you, Quinton," he finally assured him. "Against all better judgment."
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Quinton. Not Q, not pet.
Quinton.
Leaning in he kissed James soundly.
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Bond lifted his hand and cradled his face. The hold was solid and sure, but he took care not to hurt him, only to control him. And whn Bond was finished, he pulled away first.
"You'll not take advantage," he said firmly.
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"Nor will you," Q challenged, not agreeing, only pointing out how opportunistic they both could be.
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Q's backbone made him smile fondly.
"Agreed," he said. "Now go clean up. I want to go to bed."
He paused.
"Together."
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Q nodded, slipping off to the bathroom.
He took his time in the shower, his mind all over the place, thinking about James, then about Harry.
Could he really be in love with both men? How could this end any way other than badly?
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Q was facing the water when Bond slipped in behind him and slid his arms around his waist.
"You're taking forever," he said, kissing droplets from his shoulder.
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"Apologies, I tend to get lost in my own little world beneath the spray of hot water," Q confessed, leaning back against him.
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He held him a little tighter and dragged his lips up Q's neck.
"Budge up, then. I need to wash," he said, but his hold was secure. If he really cared about washing, he certainly didn't make any move to do it.
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Q moved as much as James' hold allowed, only to lean back against him again.
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Bond skimmed hid hands up and down Q's body, the water warm and steady.
"I might take a little advantage," he purred softly. "Because this is...very nice."
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Q drew away slightly, rinsing off the last of the soap. He couldn't help but worry a little that James' interest was only physical. It wasn't as though they spoke often- Outside of Q mouthing off a bit and James making kinky threats. How long before another student came along- Better at submitting, better looking, less of a smart arse? How long before he was put aside and then forgotten?
"I don't have any pyjamas with me," he said absently, his mind miles away.
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"I'm sure I can find something," he replied while he quickly scrubbed up.
"Though you don't need to wear anything at all."
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Q watched him wash up, thoughtful for a moment before offering a little crumb of intimate detail.
"I don't like being cold," he said. "Especially my feet. I can't stand to have cold feet."
Little details about himself, information he wasn't sure James would hold onto.
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Bond smiled indulgent at him.
"Then I'll find you something to wear," he assured him.
Bond killed the tap and stepped out to dry off.
"And I'll keep you warm," he promised.
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"For how long?" Q asked, though he wandered off to the bedroom before Bond could answer, drying himself with a quick spell.
He wasn't sure he really wanted an answer.
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"Until you lose interest, I imagine," he answered, opening his wardrobe to find a t shirt and sweats for him.
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Q perched himself on the edge of the bed, watching James as he dug through the wardrobe. He couldn't help but admire the other man, the way his muscles moved beneath skin, the solid shape of him, the way he held himself...
"Do you really believe I'd be the one to lose interest?" he asked softly. "It seems unlikely to me. ...Though I can imagine your gaze being drawn to another. A new student. ...An old flame."
Harry certainly still held onto Bond in some way. He was certain it went both ways, even though he had no real proof.
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"I think you're tired," he said instead.
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